


Marveyweek Goes Halloween - Ficlets

by turnyourankle



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Professions, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Wolfram & Hart, marveyweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:04:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5102204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnyourankle/pseuds/turnyourankle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All my Marveyweek ficlets in one place. Featuring:<br/>1 - Harvey invites Marcus and his kids to trick or treat in Mike's building.<br/>2 - Pearson Specter Wolfram & Hart's annual costume party. (Wolfram & Hart AU)<br/>3 - Mike is a children's entertainer.<br/>4 - Mike teaches Harvey how to use a stake (Wolfram & Hart AU)<br/>5 - Mike and Harvey have a disagreement over a Ouija board.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trick or Treat

**Author's Note:**

> This is all unbeta'd and written on the fly. So apologies for errors and any OOCness. This was an exercise and a challenge to see if I could contribute to all seven days of Marveyweek.
> 
> Two of my contributions won't be posted here for reasons. But you can see [them on my Tumblr](http://dearly.tumblr.com/tagged/marveyweek), if you wish!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Trick or Treat

“You know, when I said I wanted to meet your niece and nephew I didn’t expect you to spring them on me like this.” Mike emptied the Hershey bag into the bowl with the fruit leather. He mixed them up properly. This was the best way to get kids to take some healthier snacks: pack ‘em in with the tastiest ones.

Harvey observed him curiously, just as he had all week. But he didn’t comment on what Mike was doing. 

“There is no springing involved. They need a place to go trick or treating, you know what Manhattan is like.”

Mike cocked his head at that. Harvey just responded, “It’s not safe.”

“So Brooklyn is safe now? I’m going to remember you said that, you know,” Mike said, crumpling together the empty candy bag and tossing it at Harvey.

Of course, Harvey caught it. “I’ve no doubt about that.” He threw it into the trash easily, not getting up from his spot on the couch.

“I forgot they’re staying with you in your glass tower where there’s no people or candy or doors.”

Harvey had mentioned that Marcus and the kids were visiting over the weekend, and Mike thought maybe the five of them would form an unstoppable trick or treating gang, gathering mountains of candy. He might even have fantasized about a group costume. Or, more reasonably, he thought they’d just have dinner, like normal people. Mike had been dropping leaden hints, but Harvey had just ignored him. Obviously because he had masterminded this evil plan and didn’t want Mike to suspect anything. 

Because tonight, D-day, Harvey casually mentioned that Marcus and his kids would be trick or treating in Mike’s building. They wouldn’t stop by before or after, but rather just shake the building down for treats without even acknowledging that Mike and Harvey were there. Mike did not see this twist coming at all, and he was pretty sure Harvey was tricking him somehow.

"Condo regulations.”

“They regulate against fun?”

“They regulate against disturbances.”

“Which doesn’t explain why they have to come here.”

“They’ll be terrorizing the whole neighborhood, not just this building.” Harvey got up and joined Mike at the table. He cracked open two beers and handed one to Mike. Mike knew he was just trying to calm him down.

Harvey continued, “They don’t even know which apartment is yours. They won’t know who you are. And they won’t recognize me,” Harvey said this part with a proud smirk. As if his Batman outfit would be a surprise to anyone. Mike liked the way Harvey looked in it (of course) so he wasn’t going to argue this point.

"But you’ll know who they are.”

“We instated a Chinese wall; I have no idea what they’re dressing up as, and they have no idea what we’re dressing up as.”

“Of course you did.”

Mike gulped down some more of his beer, feeling Harvey’s gaze on him. He couldn’t meet it right now. He couldn’t pretend that handing candy to Marcus and his kids as if they were strangers was supposed to make him feel better. Never mind that they actually were strangers, since they hadn’t met, and Mike hadn’t even glimpsed a photo of them. Which was just part of the problem to begin with. It was weird, wasn’t it? Why couldn’t they do anything normally?

Harvey continued, "If it makes you feel better we don’t have to open your door to anyone.”

“And let all this candy go to waste?” Mike had three bowls ready to go, and more bags of chocolate and candy corn at the ready, in case the crowds were fiercer this year.

“You could just leave it outside. We can have our own trick or treating inside. And Marcus will be none the wiser. I’m sure we can make great use of our outfits,” Harvey said this wistfully, as if the idea just occurred to him. As if he weren’t already planning on re-purposing his costume in the bedroom. Please. Mike was on to him.

Mike narrowed his eyes at that. “No. It’s bad enough that I have to use an electric pumpkin, you’re not taking this away from me.”

Harvey shrugged. “Then it’s settled.”

He pressed a kiss against his forehead. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to make myself incognito before the little monsters start dropping by. And you better get yourself silver coated, Tin Man.”

Before he got out of reach, Mike pulled him back for a proper kiss. Once his face paint was on there was no way Harvey would get anywhere near him. He was more forceful than usual, almost pleading. Mike still wasn’t sure this wasn’t a test of some kind and he didn’t want to fail. He didn’t want to disappoint. He wanted to make sure the kiss conveyed that.

They disentangled, and Harvey pressed his beer into Mike’s hand. More liquid courage. He left for Mike’s bedroom, closing the door behind him. Undoubtedly to give Mike some room to freak out, which was slightly condescending, but not uncalled for. If this was the way Harvey wanted to play this, Mike could certainly play along.

+

Mike had been paying attention to Harvey all night, which actually was distracting, as he liked to reserve his attention to the trick or treaters, but for he couldn’t stop himself. He could tell that Harvey had been waiting for Mike to say something, or ask something. Mike could tell that Harvey was if not worried then at least slightly concerned. He’d hid it well, of course, as he did everything. But Mike had become experienced in reading him, even when his face was hidden.

Once Mike had figured out the alter egos of Harvey’s family, he’d enjoyed marinating in that knowledge. He wanted to milk this for as long as possible. He thought he could keep this going into morning, but as they lay in the dark and Mike watched how tense Harvey still looked, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. 

"I know who they were,” Mike said, and watched as Harvey turned to face him in bed. The line of his exposed neck stiffening ever so slightly. 

"Oh?” Harvey said, feigning disinterest, but Mike could see a small tug on Harvey’s lips. 

“Piglet and Edward Scissorhands, escorted by the fried egg.”

Harvey smiled broadly at that. “They knew who you were too.”

“You told them! I knew it.”

“I told them nothing. But Marcus figured it out.” Which Mike knew meant this was a test for everyone involved. And they all passed. 

“It’s almost like it was meant to be,” Mike said, and grabbed hold of Harvey’s hand, twining their fingers together.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Harvey always rolled his eyes when Mike was sappy, but he didn’t protest. In fact, he squeezed Mike’s hand and pulled him in closer.


	2. Pearson Hardman Wolfram & Hart's Annual Costume Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Costume Party
> 
> Scene from the never to be written Wolfram & Hart AU.
> 
> Harvey takes Mike to the annual costume party hosted by Pearson Hardman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU. [I posted about on Tumblr](http://dearly.tumblr.com/post/131298928967/marvey-wolfram-hart-au), and completely spiralled out of hand after that. 
> 
> From what I can tell, no one else is interested in this 'verse (haha, which means it was made for me to get super invested in.) But that hasn't stopped me from writing scenes from it for Marveyweek. 
> 
> Knowing me, I will probably end up writing this fic. But I'm still in denial, and not entirely convinced that anyone would be remotely interested. So. Let me know if you'd read it, I guess?

“The irony that we have to dress up for this…” Mike trails off, distracted by an Ethros demon about twenty feet away, approaching Donna from behind. He suppresses a shiver as the demon drops his hand on Donna’s shoulder, and she turns to face it shaking its hand. 

“Is apparent to anyone paying any kind of attention?” Harvey finishes for him, snapping Mike’s attention back to him.

“I can’t believe we have to mingle and make small talk with these things when a good douse of gasoline and the strike of a match would wipe them all out.”

“You need to behave,” Harvey says, pointedly, raising his glass to a Deathwok demon dressed up as a vampire. This was only apparent by the prosthetic teeth it carried along with its plate of hors d'oeuvres. Most of the attendees weren’t in costume, using the costume party pretense as an excuse to show their demonic forms openly. Of course, that was the whole point of the party. To allow the clientele to be themselves in the open. The employees, Harvey and Mike included, had been assigned Venetian masks, the design corresponding to their ranks. If the stick were sharper, Mike would be tempted to use his to stab some demons’ eyes out.

“I am behaving,” Mike says, gaze returning to Donna. He should probably be acting more like her: smiling (mouth closed, of course, as to not show disrespect), welcoming. She could so easily just murmur a curse under her breath and wipe out the whole room. Mike has no idea how she’s controlling herself. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was actually enjoying being pawed on by demons.

Harvey taps his arm and Mike meets his gaze. He’s looking at Mike like he knew exactly what he was thinking. “This place is crawling with Empath demons, Mike. You need to be convincing.”

Mike nods. He wishes he were drinking. Actually, that’s not right, he wishes he had his stake with him, and maybe some throwing stars.

Harvey is still considering him carefully. He leans in, voice low as he asks, “Was I wrong in thinking you were ready for this?”

Mike huffs out a breath, but he can’t answer truthfully. He’s not sure that he is ready. He’d asked to come. Harvey had told him what to expect if he wanted to join the adult table. Mike was probably deluded in thinking he could handle it. Watching all these things act like people. He had to think of the long game, he knew that. Being here was part of that. Stomping out all the demons and lower beings at the annual costume party was equivalent to swatting at stray cockroaches. It did nothing in the grand scheme of things.

“I just need a moment.”

“Come on, let’s get some air.” Harvey gently nudges him by the elbow and leads him outside, a shaded balcony. “I’ll be right back,” Harvey says before vanishing, sliding the glass doors shut behind him.

The night air is crisp, and Mike watches the party continue through the glass doors. Jessica’s there, of course and she looks completely at ease as well. There’s hardly any associates present, only the most promising having been invited to rub elbows with Pearson Hardman’s (and by extension, Wolfram & Hart’s) most ruthless clients. Mike should be mingling too, mining the clients for information, gaining their trust, and sowing the seeds of their destruction. But all he wants is to throw acid in all of their faces. It probably shows. Harvey is right: he’s not hiding his disdain well at all.

Mike can’t help it. If Harvey hadn’t hired him, Mike would still be in the dark about this. He’d still be trolling alleys and underground tunnels looking for demons to kill. When all along they could be found flirting and ordering drinks at the Chilton. It makes Mike’s brain hurt, thinking of how deep this goes. How naive he was to think he could have made any difference at all on his own. If he wasn’t scared of getting caught, he’d smash his glass against the ground, just to break something.

Harvey returns then, tumblers in both his hands, his mask poking out of his pocket. He takes Mike’s empty glass from him, and places on the balcony railing. He presses the tumbler into Mike’s palm. His hand is warm and dry, and it lingers. “This is all you’re getting tonight, don’t waste it.”

Mike downs the contents of his glass in one go. It burns going down, and he makes a face. Harvey’s sips his slowly and turns away from him. With his back to the glass doors, Harvey’s face seems to shift just the tiniest bit, the mask he wears every day slipping. For the briefest of moments he looks exhausted. In this light, Mike can tell how deep the circles under his eyes are, and how tense his mouth is. It must be just as hard, if not more, for Harvey to be here. It’s clear, from the way he sips his scotch that he needed a breather as well. 

Mike forgets, this is hard on him too, that’s how good Harvey is at hiding things. He’s been at it longer, and he made it very clear that he hired Mike because they were in the home stretch. That this would all end in their lifetime, and that’s why he needed Mike. If Harvey has been able to do this for years on end, Mike can certainly survive one day at a time. Harvey needs him to. 

Mike steels himself, picks his empty glass back up. “Ready when you are.”

“Good,” Harvey says, and cups Mike’s shoulder, steady. "Good.“


	3. Sully's Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I'm A Monster

Being a children’s entertainer didn’t have many perks. Sure, Mike liked hanging out with the kids and sometimes the parents were okay, either they’d saved up to hire him and were grateful for his presence, or they were filthy rich and didn’t treat him differently than any other hired help. The parents were preferable to the nannies that seemed to think he was below them somehow, because he got paid to dress up in a costume and entertain kids rather than take care of them 24/7. At least he didn’t have to change the kids’ diapers, so whatever.

Sometimes the parents or nannies would pack a slice of cake for him as a tip, which meant he didn’t have to worry about dinner for the day. And sometimes they’d actually tip, which was better, because that lasted a couple of dinners, at least.

He’d been on a string of Upper East Side parties this past spring, but this was the first time he’d been asked in for an interview. He had a Facebook page with plenty of  customer reviews (all real, thank you very much), his prospective employers could easily just contact all of those people and verify how awesome Mike was as Sully. Or, like, ask the last family whose party entertained for, that probably referred him to them. 

But no, the Van der Meer’s wanted to see him in the flesh. Probably to see if he would sit on command, and beg nicely for treats. Ugh. Their schedule was so busy Mike had agreed (bitterly) to meet them at their office. They could only spare 20 minutes in their conference room, apparently. 

He’d biked downtown, his costume heavy in his backpack, and changed in the lobby bathroom. If there’s one thing he’d learned it was that you had to sell it.

He was late, but it didn’t seem to matter because the Van der Meer’s had double booked themselves. Which was fantastic. Maybe that was part of what they wanted to see him for, see if he could  _sit_ and  _stay_ , like a good puppy. 

If he hadn’t been in plain view of the whole office, and the Van der Meer’s in the conference room, he probably would’ve rolled his eyes. But no, he was a professional. 

He was left waiting outside the glassed in conference room as some sharply dressed man was standing at the conference table, gesticulating sparingly, but effectively, it looked like. It seemed pretty rehearsed, but Mike could tell from the look on the Van der Meers’ faces that whatever the Suit was saying was working.

Mike could feel the secretaries glaring at him, as if his Sully costume was going to shed, or spread blue collar germs, or something. He stayed focused on the action in the conference room. The suit stuffed his hands in his pant pockets, and his jacket strained over his lower back and ass. Mike was pretty sure whatever he was saying would work on him, too.

The meeting was winding down, and Mr and Mrs Van der Meer both shook the Suit’s hands. The Mrs. said something into the intercom, presumably calling on a secretary because the nearest one approached Mike.

She’d sneered at him earlier but was all smiles now as she told him they’d be just another moment, and thanked him for being patient. He hated when they did that, just assumed he was being patient when he’d been kept waiting.

The Suit glanced at him briefly before the lingering secretary caught him. They were out of earshot, but she laughed and flipped her hair. Such an obvious move. The Suit touched her elbow, steering her away and she left. He was really good.

“Who are you supposed to be, exactly?” It was the Suit, standing square in front of him.

“Sully.” Mike paused, considered the Suit and his potential knowledge of kids’ movies. “You know, from  _Monsters Inc_?”

“I am familiar with the franchise, yes,” he smirked, as if he was amused. With what Mike wasn’t sure– him, the situation, his answer? “What’s Sully from _Monster’s Inc_  doing at Grassi & Co?”

“I’m interviewing.”

“For the firm?” He smirked, and Mike rolled his eyes. As far as jokes went, that was a pretty bad one.

“Obviously not. For Aimee Van der Meer’s birthday party.”

The Suit nodded, but he didn’t seem to pay attention to what Mike said. He was staring at the costume with a slight frown. "The spots don’t seem right for Sully. Is this a licensed costume?”

Mike held the guy’s gaze, tried to look confident as he answered – “No.”

It wasn’t. In fact, Jenny had helped him make the costume, and it was just different enough from Sully that he was pretty sure he couldn’t get sued. But maybe he could get sued if he was  _actually saying_  he was Sully, from  _Monsters Inc_. Shit. He walked straight into that one.

The Suit nodded at that. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, handing it to Mike. Harvey Specter, Attorney at law.  _Shit shit shit_.

“Is this your way of saying you think I’m gonna get sued soon and you’d be happy to represent me?”

“You couldn’t afford me,” Harvey said with a smile. He was most definitely gloating. “Besides, I think Disney has greater concerns than going after a kid who dresses up to be one of their characters.”

Mike nodded, turning the card over in his hands. There was another number on the card, probably a private line. “So, this is for your kids? You want to hire me for a party, I mean?”

“I don’t have children,” Harvey said, “But I do have nephews.”

“So is this… for you then? Or your nephews?” Mike wondered how many of these specialty cards Harvey handed out each day. Did he have a stack of them printed at home, and determined in the morning how many personalized cards he’d need that day? Or did he always just have like, 10 in his pocket? So many questions. 

Harvey grinned, wickedly, “Can’t it be both?”

Mike wasn’t sure why he’d gotten a card from this guy. He could tell Harvey was working him over, he’d already seen it twice today. He just couldn’t figure out why. He was dressed as a fake Disney monster, and this lawyer, this Harvey Specter, seemed to be working him for some ungodly reason. He couldn’t help himself, and blurted out, “Why?”

Harvey must not have expected that response, pausing before continuing. “I respect professionals who do their work well.”

“You haven’t even seen me do any work?” Mike wasn’t sure why he was arguing with the compliment but whatever.

“You came all the way here dressed like a fluffy monster knowing you’d be scrutinized by bored secretaries who don’t get it, and you don’t seem the least bit humiliated.”

Mike was going to say something about how he didn’t actual come all the way here dressed like this, and how could Harvey know if he was humiliated or not?But instead all he said was, “It’s my job.”

“Exactly.” Harvey smiled. “Besides, the Van der Meers wouldn’t hire you if you weren’t any good. They have excellent taste.”

“You don’t know that they’re going to hire me.”

Harvey looked him up and down, and smirked. “They will.” He turned to leave.

“Hey–” Mike said, and Harvey turned around. “Did you just compliment yourself with that ‘they have excellent taste’ line? Because they hired you, didn’t they?”

His smile was all the answer Mike needed. “You don’t even know my name!”

Harvey waved him off, resuming his course to the elevators. “I’m sure I’ll find out when you call me. Break a leg, Sully.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Graveyard.
> 
> Scene from the never to be written Wolfram & Hart AU.
> 
> Mike takes Harvey out to slay some vampires.

“How long do we have to stay here?” Harvey follows Mike as he strides ahead of him, slaloming between headstones. 

“Until a vamp appears and we slay them. It’s a pretty straightforward deal.” Mike doesn’t turn around, but he does stop at a grave, stooping and laying his hand flat on the ground. He rises back up quickly; nothing to see there.

“I don’t particularly like loitering around in graveyards at night,” Harvey says, although what Mike is doing could hardly qualify as loitering. He’s walking with a rarely seen determination and purpose.

“The night part is a requisite for this kind of work. You said you wanted to come with me, so.”

It’s true; Harvey did say he wanted to come, mostly he didn’t want to stay in bed alone as Mike went out to fight god knows what. Yet, this wasn’t quite how Harvey had pictured their night would end. Or continue, rather. 

Looking for something to do with his hands, he mimics Mike, reaching out to the top of a headstone. He’s not sure what to look for: the marble is still shiny, and feels smooth under his fingertips. He wonders if whoever was laid to rest is actually still in the ground. He pulls his hand back quickly.

He did always say cremation was the way to go.

Harvey swings the flashlight in front of him, scanning the ground ahead. He’s probably not doing too good a job, because Mike stops in his tracks, turning around and asking, “Are you nervous or something?”

Harvey shakes his head. He’s pretty glad in this moment that he’s the one holding the flashlight. If it were in Mike’s hands it would probably be aimed at his face about now.

“You’ve never slayed anything before, have you?” Mike doesn’t sound judgmental, just curious. 

“I never had to.”

“Not even creatures that were up against firm clients?”

Harvey cocks his head at him. Mike scoffs, says, “Oh sorry, I forgot this is lowly grunt work to you. Fit for underlings.”

Mike’s not completely wrong. Harvey’s not exactly in his element, but he’s not about to admit that. There’s an implication there, too: if Harvey hasn’t slayed anything before now, he’s going to have to learn. He’s been lucky to avoid it for so long.

“Here,” Mike says, waving Harvey over. He opens his fanny pack– stupid hideous thing – and reveals a couple stakes, taking one out and placing it firmly into the palm of Harvey’s hand. It feels just like any piece of wood, nothing special about it.

Mike closes Harvey’s fingers around the stake, says, “You want to hold on to it tightly, and like– Get some good weight behind it. Your boxing background will serve you well.”

“Hm.”

“Do you want to practice on me?”

Harvey tilts his head. Mike smiles, and laughs. “Harvey, you may be amazing at talking the talk, and strategizing and getting these monsters to do what you want them to… But this isn’t court. This is my turf, and I’ve got it. I’ve been doing this since I was a kid. I can take you.”

He wants to roll his eyes, but he knows Mike’s being serious.  _Fine_. He can attack Mike if that’s what Mike wants.

 Harvey does a half-hearted effort, aiming for Mike’s shoulder, just in case he catches him, but he barely makes it halfway before Mike’s arm blocks him and the stake flies out of his hand. He grips the flashlight tighter, shielding his chest instinctively. 

Mike retreats.

“If your stake goes flying like that you’re dead meat. Guaranteed.” Mike sighs.  "Harvey, if you’re not going to take this seriously maybe you should just go wait in the church.“

"No,” Harvey says between gritted teeth.  

“I’ll be fine on my own.” If Harvey’s not mistaken, he can tell Mike looks a little disappointed.  _Obviously_ he wouldn’t go easy on a vampire. Mike’s been hurt enough already, Harvey has no intention to add to that, intentionally or not.

“No,” he says, with more venom than intended. He’s not going to leave Mike alone. 

"Then try again.” Mike picks up the stake and tosses it at him. Harvey catches it. “I told you. I can take you, Harvey. You have to trust me.”

Harvey flexes his hand around the stake. The weight and size is negligible, but he’s seen what they can do. It’s still a weapon. He can do this; he can go hard. 

He drops the flashlight; if he’s going to be serious about this he’s going to do it right. Mike isn’t even looking at him anymore, striding ahead. If he wants Harvey to go for it, that’s what he’ll do–

He takes his chance just as Mike turns towards him again, heart pounding in his chest. He’s not sure if it’s adrenaline or fear. He doesn’t want to hit Mike, but he also doesn’t Mike to think Harvey’s going easy on him. Harvey’s not sure which would be worse.

Mike doesn’t even look surprised as Harvey’s hand bears down towards him, he ducks and trips Harvey, grabbing his arm as he goes down. Harvey makes sure to hold on to the stake as hard as he can; it’s surprisingly difficult, with Mike below him, twisting at his flesh.

Harvey manages to roll out of Mike’s grasp, using his heels to scoot back.Mike scrambles back at him, quickly, giving Harvey no time to recover. Mike’s on him before Harvey even has a chance to try to get up. He’s pinned to ground, Mike straddling him, his arms crossed uncomfortably across his chest as Mike holds them there.

Son of a bitch, he is good. At least Harvey is still holding the stake.

“That was better, Mike says and grins, but he doesn’t let up. Harvey’s arm is burning, but he’s not about to complain. He tries to rise, but can’t, Mike’s surprisingly strong. He succumbs to the pressure and lets himself fall back, Mike’s weight on him not entirely uncomfortable. 

"Now you’re just showing off,” Harvey says.

“So what if I am?”

Mike pins him, pressing closer. His hair is still a mess from earlier, skin still flushed. From this angle Harvey can see the bite mark he left on Mike’s collarbone, and the tip of the scar he knows runs down Mike’s chest. 

“You can keep this stake. Just make sure you don’t lose it. It’s one of my best.”

Harvey nods. Mike’s eyes are shining in the dark, he looks proud. It goes straight to Harvey’s chest, that look, and he’s glad he’s immobilized so he can’t do something stupid like grab Mike’s shirt and just kiss the living daylights out of him. This is not the time or the place.

Mike gets up abruptly, pulling Harvey to his feet. He places a quick kiss on Harvey’s mouth. 

“See? There’s no way you can hurt me." 

Harvey isn’t so sure about that, but he follows Mike in silence as he stalks ahead, scouting out the rest of the graveyard. 


	5. The Afterlife and Other Myths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - Ghost Story  
> It starts with a Ouija board.

It's not their first fight as a couple, because for it to classify as a fight there needs to be some sort of shouting. Or aggression. Some sort of actual, live, conflict. So no, Harvey doesn't count this as a fight. 

But it is something. 

It starts with an open and shut inheritance case. Or at least, that's what Harvey passes on to Mike, who could use some experience with these matters, and he should easily be able to pull this off without any hand holding. Their client’s husband has passed away, and she wants waive the will and instead receive her elected share. Not contest the will, just waive it. Easy peasy. And yet, Mike is in Harvey's office boring him with minuscule and irrelevant details. He's not even talking about the case right now. He's talking about how Mr and Mrs Chen first met, how he had to propose three times before she said yes. How they each had a psychic on retainer, how he liked his marinara with red onion, not white. Mike is clearly leading up to something, but he's taking his sweet time, and Harvey does not have time for Mike’s meandering storytelling right now. 

"What's the problem exactly?"

"She wants her husband's Ouija board."

Harvey leans back in his chair. This is a new one. He's seen all sorts of greed unearthed when wills were made public: spouses and children fighting over the summer house in the Hampton’s, or Barcelona, thoroughbreds, even season tickets at the Met. That all made sense to some extent. But a piece of plywood with some numbers and letters painted on it? This might win the yearly office pool for the oddest client request. 

"Is it antique?"

"No, there's..." Mike says, he seems to hesitate before continuing, "sentimental value."

Harvey nods once at that; he's heard that old chestnut before. It's usually a lie. "I assume you tried to dissuade her?"

Mike pauses before saying, "It's non-negotiable." He leans back on his heels, ever so slightly. He's standing far too still, and saying far too little. Which means he has mentioned to Mrs Chen that it would be best not to pursue this course of action, but that he didn't really mean it, and hadn't pushed at all. Which is exactly the opposite of what Harvey has taught him to do.

"I suppose it take all kinds,” Harvey says, because this isn’t worth fighting over. Small peanuts. 

"Excuse me?" Mike seems taken aback by Harvey's comment. 

"Surely you've heard that expression before."

"Of course. I'm just not sure why-- what do you mean, in this context?"

Harvey watches as Mike looks down at the papers in his hands. His grip is tight, and his hands are shaking. It's not overly obvious, just a slight tremble, but it's there. Harvey wouldn't call it an overreaction, but. It's a reaction where, as far as Harvey is concerned, none is needed. It's almost as if... 

"Are you getting your feelings all over this?"

Harvey can tell Mike is frustrated with this line of questioning. "I'm trying to get her what she wants, isn't that what I'm supposed to do?"

"She's being unreasonable."

"Is it unreasonable to want something that belonged to your loved one?" 

"When it's a cheap toy that can be purchased at any hobby store, yes. No, let me rephrase that. It’s not a toy, it's a gimmick that doesn't even work." Harvey keeps the bite out of his voice, because this seems to be affecting Mike more than he wants to let on. "It's the definition of unreasonable."

It looks like Mike wants to say something-- wants to fight what Harvey is saying. But he doesn't. Instead, he just inhales sharply and says, "I'll take care of it."

Harvey nods, permission for Mike to leave. He watches as Mike goes, striding out without looking back. He doesn't even acknowledge Donna as he passes her desk.

Donna looks at him, one eyebrow raised. "Don't look at me like that," he says to the room, and refuses to give in and stare her down. 

-

Mike doesn't call on him once the rest of the day, and when Harvey swings by the bullpen before leaving he's still working, showing no signs of letting up. 

"Are you coming?" Harvey asks and Mike shakes his head, not really looking at him. He says he has work to do. Briefs to go over. More details on the Chen will to parse through. He could use a night in his own bed, he says. Didn’t they talk about maybe taking some nights off, anyway? This is as good a time to start as any, he says. 

It sounds rehearsed, but Harvey isn't going to argue with him. He knows he hasn't given Mike a heavier workload than usual: there is no reason he should need to stay later tonight. But for some reason Mike wants his space. That's fine. Perfectly and totally fine. Harvey has no intention of discouraging Mike from focusing on his work. 

But he can’t deny that the timing of Mike's new-found focus is awfully suspicious.

 

-

 

The next day, Harvey returns from court to find Rachel leaning over Donna's desk. 

"Apparently, the Ouija board is the only way she can get in touch with her husband," Rachel says, with wonder in her voice.

"The Chen case," Donna says, as she passes him his already opened mail. 

"I didn't ask." Donna just looks at him. He continues, "Why are we still talking about this? Mike is taking care of it."

"We're not talking about it, Rachel and I are," Donna says, as if she's trying to make a point.

"It's so romantic. And so heartbreaking." Rachel says, with a sad wistful look in her eye. 

"Yes, it certainly is." Donna looks a more reasonable, but her words aren’t reasonable at all. 

"I told Mike he has to get updates from her. I want to know if she succeeds to get in touch with her husband.

"Why would she bother? To scold him for not leaving her enough cash? Ask where Curly's gold is buried? Clearly everyone in this office has lost their marbles."

“I don’t recall anyone asking for your opinion,

"You're such a cynic," Rachel says, with the slightest hint of scolding in her voice. Just little enough that she won't be reprimanded. 

"I've worked dozens of these cases, romance rarely has anything to do with fighting for property."

"Sometimes I wonder what Mike sees in you," Donna says, because she knows she can get away with scolding him. 

He doesn't deign to respond, leaving her and Rachel to tattle as he gets back to work. 

-

 

His real clue that something odd is going on is when Mrs Chen requests to use Mike as her permanent counsel once the case is over. Her legal matters aren't typically complicated, especially now that her husband has passed. It's nothing Mike can't handle. And of course, he did right by her; he got her that godforsaken Ouija board and her elected share with minimal chafing. No, the off thing isn’t that she requested to keep him on. The odd thing is that Mike isn't the one to tell Harvey the good news. 

"I hear your boy made good use of his baby blues to charm himself a client," Donna greets him with as he comes in for the morning. 

"I'm sure his brain had more to do with it,” Harvey says, trying to buy himself time to think of who Donna could be talking about. 

"Or their common interest in the supernatural," she teases. 

Ah, Mrs Chen it is. 

"Very funny," he says, and tries to sound casual, "When did this happen?"

He must have let his face slip just the tiniest bit because Donna stares, incredulous. "Did you really not know?"

"Donna, I don't pay attention to the office grapevine," he says, but she's right. Mike should have told him. Harvey's not sure why he hasn't. 

"You have to take care of this," Donna says. He tilts his head in her direction.

"I am taking care of everything that requires my attention currently."

"Harvey. Please." But she doesn't actually mean please, she means, get your shit together. And she actually sounds concerned, which, in and of itself is concerning. With more levity, she adds, “I cannot be responsible for your interpersonal communication. That's too much, even for me."

 

-

 

"I hear congratulations are in order," Harvey says after his and Mike’s plates have been placed before them. Harvey doesn't need an excuse to take Mike to lunch anymore, so he does. So what if he’d like to mine some information out of him while they’re at it?

Mike looks a little shocked. "I, uh-- the Mrs Chen thing?"

"Were you under the impression I wouldn't find out?" Harvey is truly curious about Mike's thought process behind not saying anything. Until now, he'd never known Mike to be shy about sharing his accomplishments. Or his thoughts in general. It seemed to have started with the Chen case, and Harvey would like it to end there. 

"No. I was going to tell you." Mike says, unconvincingly. "Is that why you're treating me to Del Frisco's for lunch?"

"I don't need an excuse to take you out for lunch, and I am offended by that implication." Mike rolls his eyes at that. Harvey continues, "But I didn’t think this should go without celebration."

Mike starts on his steak. He's still too silent for Harvey's liking.

"So how did you convince her?"

Mike shrugs, says, "We got along pretty well."

"Yes, it would seem so. I heard something about you two bonding over supernatural matters."

Mike stops chewing and swallows, looking uncomfortable. There it is. He prods, "The Ouija board cinched it?"

"It wasn't the board, per se. It's that I took her seriously."

"I see your method of getting emotionally involved worked out this time. How did her quest to communicate with her dead husband work out?”

Mike's head snaps up, and he looks Harvey straight in the eyes for the first time today. "You heard about that?"

"Rachel and Donna were carrying on about how romantic it was."

"And you disapprove of that sentiment."

"Of the idea that Mr Chen is wandered through the afterlife waiting for his wife to page him? Yes."

Mike looks more serious now. Putting down his knife and fork. "Do you really not believe in ghosts?"

"Do you?" Harvey tries to keep the judgment from his voice, because this clearly seems to mean something more to Mike. But, really? This was why he'd been distant? Ghosts? 

"I didn't realize you were so invested in the supernatural."

"I'm not."

"Don't you like to think about your dad?" Mike asks, tentatively. His face is turned away, probably for Harvey's benefit. They don't talk about Harvey's parents, really. Harvey very consciously does not react to Mike's words, because if this is what has been bothering him... this is probably a conversation they need to have. He takes a sip of his water, wishing he could be drinking something stronger.

"Not like that, no." Mike doesn't respond. He seems to be waiting for something more. This is not a conversation Harvey has imagined himself having with Mike. Or with anyone, really. He chooses his words carefully, "I would like to think he is actually at peace. As unlikely as that is. No need to wander the earthly realm eternally, faced with everything he missed out on.”

Mike's pushing his fork around on his plate. Harvey takes hold of his hand, stilling it. "Do you-- you think about your parents, and your Gram...as ghosts?" He tries to keep the disdain out of his voice. Even just saying it sounds ludicrous. 

Mike sighs, he moves his fingers so they're woven with Harvey's. Harvey can wait him out, if he needs to. "Not exactly. Gram would always talk to me about how my mom and dad were watching over me. I kind of-- I mean, I don't know that I believed it, like fully believed it. But it was nice to think about, you know? Them being around, even though I couldn't see them or talk to them."

Harvey nods, Mike still isn't looking at him, though, so he says, "Hey, Mike. Look at me." Mike looks up. He has a pained expression on his face. Harvey prods him, "Go on."

Mike hesitates before continuing. "I mean, I did-- I do talk to them. They don't answer, obviously. But it helps, a little bit."

Harvey nods. He doesn't really know what to say to that. It's not the way he thinks at all, but he can see it how that would help. 

"I just don't want you to think I'm dumb for thinking that they're still around."

"I don't," Harvey says. Mike looks paler, and he's squeezing Harvey's hand tightly. Harvey can tell Mike wants to believe him, but doesn't. Not yet, at least.

"Do you want to tell me what you talk to your parents about?"

"I told them about you," he says, with a hint of a smile. Now they're getting somewhere. This he can work with. Harvey squeezes Mike's hand back.

"Only good things, I hope."


End file.
